


Forget Me Not

by theofficialsherlockholmes



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Retirementlock, Sussex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 10:43:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2385497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theofficialsherlockholmes/pseuds/theofficialsherlockholmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock losing his memory was the last thing John expected, but he's determined to make the best of a situation he'd never planned for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forget Me Not

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for Alzheimer's. Sherlock's case is by no means so severe that he's forgotten everything, but if that's a sensitive area for you, you may want to stop here. If not, enjoy!

When John and Sherlock had decided to leave Baker Street to live out in the country in Sussex, they had every intention of it finally being peaceful. It was supposed to be time for John and Sherlock to finally be together and enjoy the lives that they deprived themselves of almost thirty years ago. It was supposed to be happy, and it was, for four perfect years, but then things changed. John was roused early one morning a month ago by the sound of scared yelling and he shot up in bed, all too reminded of the years when Sherlock would have nightmares so horrendous that he couldn’t function properly if John was not there to calm him down.

These screams were not the same as nightmare screams.

These were new screams John had had to get used to and he hated them.

Just a month ago, Sherlock had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and it had only been getting worse. Sherlock often woke up dazed and afraid, unaware of where he was, who he was, who John was. After a week of not knowing what to do or how to calm him, John had finally found the perfect solution to this new problem. Frankly, it wasn’t his idea. He’d seen it in some film years and years ago and decided it was worth a try with Sherlock. John couldn’t tell you the name of the movie, the people in it, or really what it had been about, but he remembered that the main male character had made a film for his wife to watch every morning so that she remembered him and the life that they had built together. John was hell bent on giving that same idea a try.

Some days were better than others and Sherlock hadn’t forgotten him completely yet. Some days, they sat together in the garden and kissed softly and lazily as they watched Sherlock’s bees float from flower to flower. Those were Good Days, days when Sherlock didn’t have to watch the video. On the beginnings of a Not Good Day, the days when Sherlock had woken up in a mad panic, John led Sherlock to the sitting room lovingly, a soft hand on his back, before sitting him down in his chair and pressing play on the video. John always made tea while Sherlock watched the film and when it ended eight minutes after they’d woken up, they had the tea and some breakfast together while Sherlock stared intently at John.

The staring used to unsettle John, but he knew now that Sherlock needed it to remember everything he could about John and their lives together. The video showed him most of what he needed to know: pictures of them together when they were younger, videos of John explaining who he was, pictures of their wedding twenty years ago and their vow renewal ten years after that. Amongst all that, clippings of newspaper articles praising Sherlock’s brilliance reminded the man of how extraordinary they had been when they traipsed through London on the heels of men renowned for their killing and thievery. Sometimes, John watched the video when Sherlock went out to the garden and tended to his bees, smiling and reminiscing over their days as Consulting Detective and His Loyal Army Doctor.

And John was loyal, wasn’t he? He’d never left Sherlock’s side, never stopped believing in him despite all the evidence that he should give up hope entirely. John was irrevocably Sherlock’s; he belonged to the man every bit as much as he could. Their souls were destined together, as cheesy as John knew it sounded, and that was the way it was always going to be, no matter what this life, or the next, or the next, threw at them. John was bound to Sherlock so strongly that he would never again be a complete man on his own again and that was okay with him.

This Not Good morning had started out just like the rest of them did. Sherlock woke, panicked, and was immediately taken into the sitting room, John’s hand just as soft as always on his back. John made tea, Sherlock watched the video as if for the very first time, and kissed John’s head when he finished the short film. John brought breakfast and they sat in the chairs they’d brought from 221B. They ate in quiet, companionable silence and Sherlock stared at John. This morning was just like the rest.

However, this morning, Sherlock was watching John and it wasn’t like his normal “remember what I can about my life with John,” look. It was less calculating, less nostalgic, and leaning more towards sad. John didn’t like this look, didn’t like it one bit.

“What’s wrong, love?” John asked softly as he put his plate on the small table beside his chair.

“Do you really do this every single morning?” Sherlock asked him, his voice soft.

“Of course I do,” John told the man with a nod and a small smile.

“Why?” The question was quiet, almost hesitant, as if Sherlock feared the answer.

Smiling sadly, John stood and pulled Sherlock up with him, holding him close. “Because you’re the love of my life. Because you’re the only person I’ve ever loved unconditionally. Because there is never supposed to be a Watson without a Holmes or a Holmes without his Watson,” John said into the man’s chest, swaying them softly. Sherlock had long since forgotten how to play his violin, but John had recorded him playing years ago. The man walked to their stereo and pressed play, one of those beautiful melodies filling their cottage now. He returned to Sherlock and went back to rocking them steadily back and forth across the room. Sherlock exhaled into his hair and John closed his eyes, remembering their wedding night, when they’d first danced together as a couple. After their wedding, John and Sherlock had gone for a walk in Regent’s park in the absolute dead of night when no one inhabited large area and danced again. John had laughed and Sherlock had smiled down at him as if he was a mystery or a marvel or something altogether new and spectacular and they had danced until their feet grew tired and John was all but asleep against Sherlock’s chest.

John smiled against Sherlock’s chest now and let out a quiet laugh, making Sherlock smile just as he had all those years ago. Sherlock didn’t need to know why John was laughing; he just needed to appreciate the fact that John was still happy with him after all these years. Every day, Good and Not Good, was happy for Sherlock and for that he could thank only John. No matter how old he got or what his memory let get away from him, he could always be reminded why he loved John. The man made Sherlock fall in love with him every single day. For years, John had made him feel so at home, so overwhelmingly loved. Every single day of their lives was just so perfect that Sherlock was certain he would never be able to repay John for all that he did and had ever done. Sherlock couldn’t remember everything he wanted to about his life with John, but he would never forget that this man was his, that he was John’s, and that they were two half souls put together to become the most imperfect and irreplaceable whole.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!  
> xx  
> Presley


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